


I Grew Up Too Quick

by kinniemobile



Series: Eight [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ghost Wilbur Soot, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Songfic, Toby Smith | Tubbo and Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Villain Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:13:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29504631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinniemobile/pseuds/kinniemobile
Summary: Wilbur Soot was a reckless child, against his father’s better judgment. He was a bit of a troublemaker for this, but he didn’t outright backtalk any adults- he just craved risk. He’d always craved risk, putting himself out there to go on some sort of adventure into the woods late at night by sneaking out of the small window in the cottage he and Phil had shared. He’d always come back, covered in mud, a smile on his face missing a few teeth with a plaster slapped on his cheek that had been there for over a week. He was a child at the core of this, and it showed through his appearance, his nature. This, at the time, was all Wilbur Soot was. A kid, like any other, who was rowdy and adventurous and required the fun and adrenaline that these adventures gave in his life.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Eight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2167299
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	I Grew Up Too Quick

**Author's Note:**

> title from eight by sleeping at last

Wilbur Soot was a reckless child, against his father’s better judgment. He was a bit of a troublemaker for this, but he didn’t outright backtalk any adults- he just craved risk. He’d always craved risk, putting himself out there to go on some sort of adventure into the woods late at night by sneaking out of the small window in the cottage he and Phil had shared. He’d always come back, covered in mud, a smile on his face missing a few teeth with a plaster slapped on his cheek that had been there for over a week. He was a child at the core of this, and it showed through his appearance, his nature. This, at the time, was all Wilbur Soot was. A kid, like any other, who was rowdy and adventurous and required the fun and adrenaline that these adventures gave in his life. 

There was a moment, though, a certain moment in his life, where that changed. Where the child craved risk a bit too much more than he should’ve, where the child wanted an adventure that he couldn’t accomplish on his own. So he took the hand of his little brother, far too young to be involved in such a thing, just like he was, and to their unfortunate luck, the craving for risk ran through the family. Both were two young, both were two naive, both thought they could simply come home with plasters on their face when their adventure was done and be over with it for good. Both underestimated the weight of what this adventure really meant. 

  
There was a moment, where the child was no longer a child, but an older brother. A man. A president. The one that those looked up to, the one that those that were children looked up to- but to this man, he was not that, to him, he was still a child. To him, this was just an adventure.

There was a moment where this changed. It felt like poison entering his soul, and maybe it was. _It was never meant to be,_ the words sung, and pain filled his body from top to bottom. It was nothing a small plaster to the face could fix because he could feel his body leaving him and he could hear the screams of those he had promised to protect and it was just _all too much for a child to deal with but he wasn’t a child he was not a child anymore but those surrounding him, those dying, those people were, and it was up to him to take charge it was up to him to make sure that this could be saved because this was not an adventure anymore it was all he had and he could not give that away not now after he and these children had died for it._

_**I remember the minute** _  
_**It was like a switch was flipped** _  
_**I was just a kid who grew up strong enough** _  
_**To pick this armor up** _  
_**And suddenly it fit** _

Now the whole scenario is nothing but a memory to President Soot and not even one of his worst ones at that. Now, he’s had to watch his little brother and his friend; ( who he two sees as a little brother but has never told him to his face ) die because of his nation, because of his lack of protection. He’s had to watch them die because of him thinking that starting an entire nation and going to war was just an _adventure._

Wilbur thinks he would do anything to go back and be that naive, but in reality, if he could go back he would grab the “younger” ( he was not much younger physically, although mentally he was almost a completely different person ) version of himself and beg on his knees to stop. He’d tell him to just go back to adventuring in the woods because this would only lead to abandoning the child role too quickly, when he’d never needed to in the first place. He’d have had so much more time to enjoy his childhood, despite being the age of 23.

He had a son, he had two little brothers along with a twin and a father, although the last two were god knows where. He’d do anything to see them again and greet them with a plaster on his face and a smile, but now he knows if he were to see them they would not see a child but a man. A man with bags under his eyes and far too many scars littering his body than a young man, no, a child, should have. 

_**God, that was so long ago, long ago, long ago** _  
_**I was little, I was weak and perfectly naive** _  
_**And I grew up too quick** _

Now, he feels his soul leave his body for what feels like the millionth time in his life, as more poisonous words slip in to fill the decaying hole in his heart. _My first decree .. is to revoke the citizenship of Wilbur Soot, and Tommy Innit,_ the words are sung to him again, and although he’d heard the same melody of pain over and over throughout this adventure, it still slaps him as hard as every other time before.

He felt his body move on its own, although the sting of the slap remains, as the thing he promised to himself so long ago he would never lose is taken from him within an instant. All he has left is the brother next to him, who is biting back the tears Wilbur can’t get himself to cry. He knows he has to get the two out of there, no matter how bad it hurts, because they’ve fought too hard to die in a messy, unplanned battle against everyone they had trusted before. They will leave for now, but they will come back stronger, and they will fight again, as they always have, despite the lingering sting that Wilbur isn’t sure will ever go away.

He is a man who has lost everything, former President Soot is, and in that everything is his mind. He has lost his mind, and everyone who has been anywhere near him can tell. It’s the way his body will be in a constant shake, and the way his voice cracks every time he speaks. It’s the way his pupils are always darting around as if he is under attack, and the way he does not leave his small bunker in Pogtopia for days at a time. When he does, he has lost more of himself each time. 

Wilbur will not let anyone in, because every time he has in the past, it has resulted in betrayal. He tries to explain this to the frail mask of his brother, but his words come out wrong. They come out villainous and dripping with the same poison that has hurt Wilbur so many times, but this time, the poison hurts his brother. He has hurt the one thing he had left, and he is too blinded by the missing pieces of his mind to realize. Instead, he thinks this is just his brother being foolishly trusting and dismisses it. _He’ll understand someday,_ he convinces himself and continues to drop fragments of his mind as his dirtied trenchcoat drags across the floors of Pogtopia and away from his shaken up brother. The sting feels stronger than it had initially been, but he does not care anymore, because soon it will be gone. 

_**Now you won't see all that I have to lose** _  
_**And all I've lost in the fight to protect it** _  
_**I won't let you in, I swore never again** _  
_**I can't afford, no, I refuse to be rejected** _

As the days continue, the fragments of his mind are scattered all along Pogtopia, and Wilbur continues to come home ( if they could even call it that, ) covered in gunpowder and smelling of insanity in every way of the word more every day. Wilbur can tell that his brother fears him, he can see it in the way the constant shaking he has inhabited from him increases when his broken footsteps echo in the walls of Pogtopia, but he has lost too much of his head to care anymore. He is set on one thing, and that is destroying the root of all of his problems. He will not have closure until the thing he has created is gone, because in his disgustingly decayed excuse of a head, he believes that is how it works.

He is well aware that other people care for his creation, one of those people being his brother who he has always loved dearly, but he cannot find the effort to do anything about that love anymore. He cannot find the effort to care about anything or anyone else. He believes he will find that effort again once he has destroyed the root of his problems, once he has broken it down to nothing. He believes he will feel alive again once he has broken everything he knows down to a fragment, just like the fragments of his mind that litter the floors behind every step he takes. He believes that only then will he be able to become a child again, once he finally removes the one thing stopping him from doing that. His mind is too far gone to stretch beyond what will happen after he breaks everything down.

He sees the looks of those he loves when he shares his plans, he sees the way his younger brothers always look like they are two seconds away from running. He sees the way his twin, who he is too lost to be excited that he is back, encourages him to go with his plan. Not because he believes his brother is right, but because he wants chaos. He sees the way those that agree with him are not doing it because they want him to be happy, but are taking advantage of his lost mental state, and those who disagree with him and notice this are trying to stop him because they care about him. He has lost the energy to care about either of these truths. 

Within a day of this realization, the fragment of his mind that held onto it is gone. Within a day of this realization, he is back to believing that Dream and Techno are his allies in this situation, and the two younger brothers that he had promised to help protect ( so they could have a childhood as he could not properly have his own, ) are in the wrong. That they are against him, that they are betraying him as everyone else had, and as much as he tried to convince them to join his side, they do not care about him enough to even consider. A day ago, he would know this is ridiculous, but yesterday is gone, and that fragment lays somewhere among the many buttons lining the ground of Pogtopia that laugh at his miserable state just by being there. His brother believes he will get better with time, that Wilbur will realize what he is doing is insane if he just holds on long enough. His brother is wrong. 

_**I want to break these bones 'til they're better** _  
_**I want to break them right and feel alive** _  
_**You were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong** _  
_**My healing needed more than time** _

Wilbur does not get a funeral, nor a headstone of any kind. Nobody wants to remember the terrible, villainous, traitor of a man who goes by the name Wilbur Soot. Among the people who do not want to remember this man is a monotone ghost with a bright yellow sweater, who has taken the name “ Ghostbur. “ Ghostbur does not remember much, and the things that he does are simple and sweet, like the smell of bread. Pushing aside the fact that one of his happy memories seems to be his assisted suicide, he is an overall cheery mask of what former President Soot once was. He is everything anyone would want in Wilbur, a Wilbur without flaws, a happy being whose only goal is to help others and be peacefully oblivious. He is a Wilbur with a childhood that remains. He is not a man, he is not a president, and despite what he tries to tell Tommy, he is not an older brother. 

Occasionally, he will come across objects, landmarks, words people say, even, that seem a bit too familiar for his liking. In times like these, he will excuse himself as fast as possible. He will avoid remembering as best as he can, he will avoid becoming the man so many despise, because he is not Wilbur. He is a mask of what Wilbur once was, and despite being the “better” version of him, he is not much more than a broken mirror. He is a reflection of Wilbur that some of those who loved him want around because it reminds them of a better time, while others do not want to see him at all because being reminded of such times is too bittersweet to handle. 

He is a weaker version of the man, a version whose oblivious nature to the world around him can cause those to break, to crumble, and although he is what could be considered, in a literal sense, the fixed version of Wilbur, he is everything but, because he is not Wilbur. Upon realizing this for what feels like the millionth time in his short span of existence, standing in the crater of everything he had ever known for sure, his monotone palette dripping into it at the rains dispense, he watches as every bit of history he had is exploded by those he trusted. Along with this, he has also realized that those around him need Wilbur. He has decided he would prefer giving himself up for the greater good, as a perfect Wilbur would.

His short symphony is finished the day Tommy has his discs, and Ghostbur, the broken mirror, is no more, leaving those with nothing to remember Wilbur by. Leaving those who needed Wilbur with nothing but an empty hole. Out of those who bear the emptiness is a boy who has lost an older brother for what feels like the third time, ( when he lost his mind, when he watched him die, and now, when he has no mirror to look into for a bittersweet moment of peace, ) but the emptiness is nothing but a fuel for a flame of determination in his heart to get him back, and when this boy is determined, he does not fail. 

_**When I see fragile things, helpless things, broken things** _  
_**I see the familiar** _  
_**I was little, I was weak, I was perfect, too** _  
_**Now I'm a broken mirror** _

**Author's Note:**

> when wilbur said he wanted us to analyze why eight was a wilbur soot song i took it too far and ended up making this. this is part 1 of a 2 part series btw so look forward to the next part :) hope you all enjoy, comments are very very appreciated


End file.
